Silent Hill: A Novelization
by Sonance
Summary: *Ch. 4 is up!!* I caught a mistake I had made when previously uploading ch. 4. Chapter One is now Ch. 1 instead of Ch. 4 being Ch. 1. Sorry for the inconvinence. Anyways, here's the continuation of my take of the PSX game, Silent Hill. Please R/R. Thanx!!
1. Wings of Fear

Title:Silent Hill - A Novelization

Author: Ayame

Disclaimer: Konami holds complete possession of Silent Hill, it's Characters, and its riveting storyline. I only put it in words.

Rating: R

Summary: Exactly what the title says this is. A novelization of the PSX game, Silent Hill. There are probably a couple of versions of Silent Hill out there. This is just my interpretation of it.

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Silent Hill : A Novelization

~wings of fear~

__

The fear of blood tends to create the fear for flesh.

~Prelude

A small sigh escaped her lips as she listened to the sound of the telephone ringing. It was a sigh of anxious worry. Her fingertips lightly brushed the first smooth manila envelope of several containing the files she needed on the desk near the telephone. She pressed her lips together, holding the receiver of the phone so tightly she could feel her knuckles turning white. _Answer…_ her thoughts came with the desperate feeling of being trapped. The hollow sound of ringing seemed too far away, muted, even though the sound was right beside her ear. She stood alone in the darkened office, her back to the door. Across the room, she could make out the silhouette of a small sofa and an end table near a small bookshelf. The large window above the quarter-sized bookshelf and sofa gave way small amounts of light through the venation blinds from the street lamps off the main road. Her heart skipped a beat as her call was answered.

"Brahms Police Department - Investigations Detective Bureau." The voice of a young man sounded as distant and hollow as the telephone ringing had been. _Why did it sound like that…?_ She wondered briefly. Her mind raced, trying to giver her some possible solutions. _Tapped?_ She shook her head at that thought. Definitely not. This was a hospital, for heaven sakes. Despite who the director was, the office she was in belonged to someone who wouldn't have the slightest hint as to what had been going on behind the scenes here. "Hello?" The voice sounded again, this time rather impatient. She licked her dry lips and clutched the telephone tightly. Her voice was shaky and quiet when she finally spoke.

"Hello… I- I have information for you about the dealings in Silent Hill…" She held her breath as she waited for a response. There was a small pause.

"Where are you based, miss?"

"I'm in Silent Hill." A small clicking sound came from behind her. With a small gasp, she half-turned and looked toward the door, praying that no one was coming in. No one entered, but she watched the door wearily. The pause on the other end of the receiver was quite long and she was sure they were debating on the credibility of the call. She had to do something. Her eyes darted along the outline of the door, where light spilled through the cracks. She had to do it fast. "Please. I've first hand information. I…" she hesitated momentarily. "I was involved…" her voice trailed off, trying to think of how to explain this without giving too much detail over the phone, but she didn't need to after he began to speak again.

"Alright. Ma'am, we need you to go to the Silent Hill Police Department so they can-"

"No!" She cut the officer off abruptly, then regained her composure and lowered her voice. She watched the door for a while, hoping that had anyone been in the office, they would not have heard her. Taking in a quivering breath, she turned to the window once again and closed her eyes, her pulse racing. "I can't do that. I need to give my information directly to the police at…" her voice trailed off once again. The sound behind her was too distinct. The clearing of a throat. Her eyes fluttered open to see the light from the hallway spilling through the door behind her and across the desk she stood at. She pressed her lips together. She could hear the young man speaking to her, but he couldn't help her now. She lowered the receiver and placed it back in its holder. Her means of freedom gone.

"And just who might be important enough for you to call after office hours and in secret, Miss Garland?"

She turned around slowly, facing the man who owned that deep voice that had spoke only moments ago. He leaned against the doorway of the office casually, watching her movements. His expression was somber. His crisp gray suit and dark hair added menace to the shadows that played over his angular features. He knew exactly what she had been doing. And she knew what the consequences would be now that she had been caught.

She didn't bother to answer him. Instead, she glared at him as she made her way to the doorway, despite the distinct feeling of fear trickling down the back of her throat. Her heart pounded, making it difficult to breath, and a headache had begun to form behind her eyes. And although it wasn't likely to happen, she knew she had to escape. Too much depended on her knowledge of this place. Her passage through the door, however, was blocked as he put an arm up against the doorframe.

"The police won't help you, you know." His deep voice held what might have been ridicule, had he been one to joke. She met his steady gaze with one of her own, defiance sparkled in her eyes.

"You're right. The Silent Hill Police Department wouldn't help me, would they?" Shoving his arm away from the doorframe, she moved past him and proceeded down the hallway at a brisk pace. He'd be after her soon enough.

Kauffmann crossed his arms as he watched her leave. She was in a hurry and wanted out. They were in the Western section of the hospital where all of the offices were based. He'd let her go giving her the false hope of escaping, but she wouldn't get far after that phone call. The police would stop her before she made it out of town. It was too bad she had to meet the fate waiting for her. She'd been very useful. He watched her silhouette continue down the hallway, past some of the closed doors on the right, and the receptionist desk on the left. He didn't need to worry about anyone coming out of those doors since it was well past the time that the offices of the hospital were closed. He smiled a bit at the pace she was going. She moved so quickly that the papers stacked on the desk to her left fluttered a bit, and the vase of roses next to those papers lost some of their petals. He could almost see the fear rising from her. Then a thought occurred to him that made his smile fade. _The Silent Hill Police Department wouldn't help me, would they?_ His eyes darkened. She'd called Brahms.

"Lisa!" His voice boomed down the empty and silent hallway. He pushed himself away from the door and marched after her. She picked up her speed, but he was much faster. He grabbed her arm and pulled her to a stop. With a glare, she yanked her arm out of his grasp.

"You're not stopping me this time, Michael! Nothing is! What you and that woman are doing to her is wrong! And I won't be part of it any longer!" With that she turned to flee, but he grabbed her arm again. The force at which his fingers closed around her bicep was painful, making her wince. A small cry of alarm rose from her throat as he pulled her to a stop again.

"You think you can just walk out on it, then? Well, you're thinking wrong." His voice held a deadly edge as he brought his arm around her throat. Struggling, she lashed out behind her, her fingernails digging into his face, causing him to release her. Gasping for breath, she fell to her knees, but sprang to her feet again, supporting herself by the desk. Kauffmann growled, ignoring the blood she'd drawn and lunged for her again. Lisa's scream was cut short by his choking grip as he pushed her against the desk, leaning down on her with incredible force. Her mouth opened, trying to catch a breath of air, but his hands were preventing it. Her mind scrambled, wishing that there had been somebody in the offices that would have heard her shriek of horror and come to help her. But her wishing was only a false hope. Desperately, she reached for anything she could get her hands on to protect herself with. Vaguely, she could hear the files on the desk hitting the floor on the other side with an angry, menacing clatter. Her light brown eyes were locked on Kauffmann's and her vision began to cloud over when her fingertips touched something cool and smooth.

Wrapping her hand around the vase, she brought it up, smashing it against his skull. The force and impact sent him sprawling. Coughing violently and gasping for the much-needed air, she could feel her eyes stinging. She slid to the pale green glossy floor, her hand resting on her collarbone. Kauffmann lie only a few feet away, glass littered around him, a small pool of blood forming next to his head. Lisa slowly got to her feet, still coughing while watching his motionless form. Her eyes slowly slid to the green linoleum and trailed down the length of the hallway to the glass doors that led to freedom. Without a backwards glance, she took off at a run.

The midnight air felt cool against her skin and like a blessing against her burning throat. Her car was easy to spot in the nearly empty parking lot. She stopped briefly, noting Kauffmann's vehicle parked right next to her own. Her skin crawled as she sprinted toward the cars and came to a halt at the passenger side of hers and peered through the window. Her nerves settled almost immediately. The small baby wrapped up in a snug little bundle was still sleeping peacefully in the passenger seat. Glancing over her shoulder to the doors of Alchemilla, she bit her lower lip and moved around to the driver's side, then cursed. The man had parked so close to her car, she wouldn't be able to get in. Her gaze drifted toward the hospital again. The three-story building looked dark and ominous. Light spilled from the windows with an eerie glow. A chill crept up her spine. Moving back around to the passenger side, she pulled her keys from the red sweater pocket and unlocked the door. Crawling inside, mindful of the sleeping infant, she settled herself into the driver's seat before leaning over and closing the door. She felt herself relaxing a little as the engine roared to life. Glancing once again at the hospital she pulled out of the parking lot. She wasn't out of hot water yet. Not until she reached the highway.

The streets were nearly empty, despite the fact that it was the resort district of the town, and therefore the area where most tourists would settle. Pushing that to the back of her mind, she smoothed back stray strands of her reddish-brown hair behind her ear and concentrated on her drive to Brahms. It wouldn't take long, but it felt like she'd be driving for miles after reaching the outskirts of the small city. The road stretched on ahead of her, narrowing as it vanished into the horizon. Tumbleweed sluggishly inched across the empty highway, as though being tugged by an invisible string. Beside her, the baby in the passenger seat stirred awake, making tiny noises. Reaching over, she pulled the blankets tighter around the small child as her mind raced through what she would present to the police in Brahms. A startled gasp escaped her lips as she pulled the car to a sudden stop, holding the baby in place, despite the seatbelt, so as to prevent it from falling. Leaning her head against the steering wheel, anxiety rose from her stomach.

"I left the files…" her whisper cut through the silence of the deserted highway. _Are they really that important, Lisa? _The thought cut through her mind like a sharp razor. _Are you willing to die for the information contained in those files? _"But… it's the only proof I have…" her barely audible whisper answered the nagging chant in her mind. She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lower lip. There was no way that she would take the baby back… And if she went back, there was no guarantee she'd make it out again. Taking in a deep breath she got out of her vehicle and moved to the passenger side, taking the baby from the warmth of the car. Holding the infant in her arms, she looked up and down the highway, now realizing where she was. She was near an old, run-down graveyard, just outside of Silent Hill. 

Her mind made up, she moved off the road and stepped carefully over the broken wooden planks that had at one time served as a fence. Her heart pounded in her throat. This could be a double-edged sword. If she didn't come back, then would anyone be able to spot the child from the road? If she didn't return and the ones who were after the child figured she'd gotten this far, would they see the baby? A chill crept up her spine. But they didn't know she had the baby yet…

"Oh, God…" Lisa's whisper cut into the silence of the lonely highway. "Please… please keep her safe until I return. Please." Squeezing her eyes shut, she held onto the infant, listening to the soft sounds it made as it wiggled in her arms. Planting a tender kiss on the baby's cheek, she set the child on the grass, just out of sight of the road, she tucked the blankets tighter around the infant. "Please be safe." Moving back onto the road, she started up her car again and turned back toward the lovely little resort town of Silent Hill.

Pulling into the parking of Alchemilla Hospital, Lisa took note that Kauffmann's vehicle was still where it was when she left. Her fingers tightened around the steering wheel in a painful grip as warning tendrils of apprehension curled at the base of her stomach. Taking in a shaky breath, her eyes darted quickly around the expansive parking lot before she stepped out of the vehicle and onto the black pavement. The entrance to the hospital glowed eerily with a pale green light. It was as thought they were beckoning her inside… into a world that she wouldn't escape. Lisa shook her head. That was ridiculous… wasn't it?

It was the way the fluorescent lights reflected off the chartreuse colored linoleum and bounced off the walls that had made the doorway look so supernatural from the view of the parking lot. That was the first thing she'd noticed when she stepped through the double-paned glass doors of the hospital. The second, was the fact that Michael Kauffmann was no longer lying on the floor near the receptionist desk. A chill crept up her spine as her senses became all the more enhanced. Broken shards of the glass vase littered the floor, reflecting the light from the ceiling, making the blood that it lie in sparkle like a broken bottle of metallic colored nail-polish. A moment of dizziness swept over the young nurse as she pushed the glass doors closed. She kept her eyes trained on the bloody mess near the desk. That was all the blood there was. There was no trail leading away from it… She had no idea where Kauffmann could have gone now.

Gathering her courage, she moved slowly and quietly down the center of the hallway. The distinct smell that hospitals were correlated with wafted through the air; the sterile scent of medicines and machinery… and sometimes that unnerving stench of death and disease… Running her tongue over her dry lips, she made sure not to step into the blood as she passed over it, her brown eyes darting along the hallway and behind her, watching for any signs of the hospital's director. She got to the room she had started out in rather quickly. The door was slightly ajar, but not to much. Her heart began to pound as she pushed her way though the entrance. Had the door been almost closed when she had left? she wondered. For a moment, she felt as though she were suffocating in the darkness of the office and the street lamps just outside didn't seem to do much to illuminate it through the blinds covering the window, as they had earlier. A feeling of impending doom crept across her stomach and her breathing became strained as fear chilled her senses. If Kauffmann did happen to take a stroll down the hallway, he could trap her in this room rather easily. Shaking her head, she moved toward the desk to get the files and then run. Her eyes roamed over the dark oak surface near the telephone before her jaw fell open slightly, her breath caught in her throat, and her movements froze. They were gone.

The door clicked closed behind her. Lisa squeezed her eyes shut, trying to suppress the tears that had formed there. She was trapped. He was standing behind her, she knew, and she wasn't going to leave this office alive. She turned around slowly, her movements more listless than they had been before; the movements of someone about to meet death. He watched her, his expression touching a sinister tranquility, a line of blood sliding down his temple. She could see that much from the lights outside. He cracked a smile and held up the files, the top one labeled 'CONFIDENTIAL' seemed to mock her in bold red lettering.

"Did you forget something, Miss Garland?" His deep voice was more threatening than it had been before. He advanced at a meandering pace, watching as she retreated, like a predator ready to take down its prey… a predator with all the time in the world. Lisa shook her head, bringing her hands up to her mouth. _Ohmygodohmygodohmygod_… The words passed through her head like a chant. She wasn't going to make it out of here. That much she knew. _But… the baby needs me! Please, God… _But pleading with divine forces was of no use. Kauffmann set down the files and advanced even more quickly. His smile was cruel. "What makes you think you could have gotten away with this?" He put an hand on either side of her head, leaning toward her. She was beautiful, especially when frightened. Her eyes held the unmistakable look of panic and doom. He felt empowered. "Did you think that without you, we'd stop?"

"I just want you to stop hurting her…" her whisper trailed off. It quivered when she spoke. She couldn't hold onto her defiance any longer. Slowly, Michael trailed his knuckles down her cheek and chin before reaching into his pocket and pulling out a syringe. With a flick of his thumb, the cap popped off, the metallic spark of the needle catching a bit of the light from outside. He held it up in front of her, ejecting some of the liquid into the air, his eyes dancing wickedly.

"It seems that you're usefulness and purpose has run out. How shall I kill you, Lisa? Quick and mercifully, or slowly and painfully?" The words pounded into her like a hammer hitting a nail. With a gasp and a shriek she shoved at him. She would go down. She knew she would not escape this time. But she'd be damned if she would go down with out putting up a fight. She ran for the door, but didn't make it. The struggle began. The dance of death. The one-sided dance where Fate was not kind enough to let the heroine survive.


	2. Preparing for the Trip

By: Ayame

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Silent Hill : A Novelization

~preparing for the trip~

~Overture

With a small groan, he reached out across the bed, his hand landing on the soft coverlet next to him. It was a habit that he would most likely never fall out of. Slowly opening his eyes, he gazed at the empty beside and gave a small sigh. He still missed her. Rolling onto his back, he rubbed his face, groaning before pushing himself up into a sitting position. Dim sunlight filtered through the vertical blinds that covered the sliding door leading to the balcony outside of his bedroom. It would be a nice day, which would be good for their trip.

"Papa!" Cheryl bounced into the room, still in her light green nightgown. The grin on her face and her glowing brown eyes clearly showed that she was ready for the outing that they'd had planned for a couple of months now. Bounding onto the bed, she crawled up to him and gave him a hug, still smiling. "We get to leave today, right?" Her voice was bright and cheerful. Harry glanced over at his bedside clock. The time read 7:18am in bright red numbers. With a nod, her patted her shoulder and moved to get up.

"Yup. But first, we've got to get some food in you." Cheryl smiled and nodded before bouncing off the bed and rushing out the door to her bedroom where she would make quick work of putting her clothes on, packing a few necessary items for the road trip, and getting her sketch book. With a small chuckle, he headed to the bathroom to take a shower.

Harry watched with amusement as Cheryl ran back and forth across the lawn of their two story home, squealing in delight and doing cartwheels as he packed the last of their luggage into the back of his red Jeep Wrangler. It was a small vehicle and didn't have much room for luggage, but they didn't need much save clothing and a few extra commodities. Their trip wasn't going to be too long either, which lessened the amount the would have needed. Their breakfast had gone by in a breeze, with Cheryl practically eating the table through the excitement of going on their annual father-daughter trip. With a sigh, he closed the trunk of his Jeep and looked toward his little girl again. She was wearing the soft blue and green checkered sundress that he'd gotten for her last month for her seventh birthday. She ran over to him, carrying the sketchbook that had been sitting on the grass near where she'd been cart wheeling, and smiled up at him. The sketchbook, like the dress, had also been a birthday gift.

"Ready to go, kiddo?" he asked with a grin. She nodded and raced for the passenger side of the car, getting in quickly. Harry glanced up and down the neighborhood street before waving to a couple of the neighbors that had come out of their houses to either collect their newspapers or work on their yards. One of them made a comment on how he was spoiling his little daughter by taking her on vacations every summer. He only laughed before getting into the vehicle and starting the engine. It would be a long drive and they probably wouldn't arrive in Silent Hill until nightfall.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The photo sat on a small dresser just in front of the rusted colored wall. The little girl in the photo didn't look directly at the camera. Her gaze was averted to the side. Her chin length hair fell neatly around her face and her expression could have been described as calm. It could have been if one did not know what troubles afflicted this young girl. With a sigh, the woman picked up the photo, gazing at it for some time. Turning, she let her eyes lazily drift around the room, the burnt, ruined room that had once belonged to the little girl. Rubbing her hands together, a twisted smile came to her lips. The time had come. Looking to the man who stood calmly in the doorway, she nodded. It was the only signal he needed. He had to be on his way to rid them of any particularly unneeded elements that they'd held onto for the time being. It was indeed time.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She glanced through the window of the holding room and front office of the station. The rain was beginning to let up to a light mist. That was just as well, since she'd rather be working without such bad conditions. Especially on a night like this. She couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was about to happen. Perhaps it was her sixth sense as a cop… she didn't know. But whatever it was, she could feel it. 

She'd been stationed at the small police station just outside of Brahms, rather than the main office this evening because of a shortage of officers there. It was busy in that area of town, and they needed reliable cops to be on the watch. But tonight, there wasn't much activity out on the streets. It wasn't so bad, she guessed. She'd rather have been at her desk at the main station set up in the center of the city, but… _I guess being a good cop will land you the jobs where reliability is needed… even if it sucks._ With a sigh, Cybil continued to watch the rain lighten up. One of the detectives passed by and offered her a cup of coffee, but she declined and gave a smile. They conversed for a moment about how she was going through her ranks at an incredible speed, much more quickly than most cops before her. With a grin, she figured that it was because she really loved her job. She usually jumped right into what was going on, and completed the tasks without much struggle. Thus was the results of going to training schools and taking them seriously. With a small sigh, she leaned back in her chair, smoothing out her light blonde hair and looked around the tiny back-alley station. The wooden walls and floors gave it the look of a country cabin, rather than a police base.

The place was a bit different from other sub-stations she'd been at. Most of those places were smaller, and only had one or two officers working there. But this place… it was like a miniature police head-quarters in itself. A wry grin crossed her lips. Brahms was definitely a change from the big city that she'd been used to working in. A definite change indeed.

"Yo, Bennett! You've got a call on the mobile!" Another officer poked his head out of a small office and motioned to her. Davis… she thought his name was. She couldn't quite remember. She'd only been recruited to Brahms a while back and was still rusty on the names. Getting to her feet, she hooked her thumbs in the belt of her pants and made her way toward him. A small crease came to her brow as she wondered just why the uniforms for the women had such skintight pants… but she guessed it couldn't be helped. Maybe it was to distract the criminals from running away…

"Thanks," she nodded as she stepped into the office and took the receiver from the other officer. Moving past him, she sat at the desk there holding the piece between her jaw and her shoulder before turning a bit and glancing up, noting that Davis had left.

"Glad they could find you over there, Bennett." It was the voice of her superior that came through the receiver. Cybil gave a slight chuckle.

"Yeah, well… there aren't too many places to hide around here. What's up?" There was a small pause on the other end accompanied by the shuffle of paperwork and some muttering, probably to another officer at the main office. Cybil waited patiently, seeing as she had no place to go or be at the moment. After a second or two, he spoke again. "Yeah… You've been dealing with the Pushing case: 02- 60504, in Silent Hill, right?" Cybil wrinkled her brow, wondering just why he was asking her that when he was the one that assigned her to it.

"Uh… yeah. Something wrong? You taking me off of it, or something?" she leaned back in the cushioned chair, idly fiddling with her badge.

"No, no. I'm not. Actually, we seem to have lost communication with Silent Hill. Started about a week ago. I want you to head over to their PD and check it out. Make sure everything's going smoothly. And see if they've come up with anything on the Drug case. Got it?" Cybil grinned. Yeah. She figured it'd be something like that. Taking out her notebook, she jotted down a few annotations, while listening to the other tidbits of information that he gave her. She raised her eyebrow a bit at one of his comments and questioned it, but he had no explanation for it. With a shrug, she made sure she'd crossed all her T's and dotted all her I's.

"Got it. A drug bust, and lack of communication. Cake walk." 

"Go straight to their PD. I've dispatched some officers already, but you're closer, so I want you there and in the know by the time they arrive. They know about Case No. 02- 60504, so go ahead and give 'em the reports. Make sure that this lack of communication is or is not related to the case we're investigating with their PD." Cybil nodded and said her good-byes before hanging up the phone and heading through the door. She walked to the desk she'd been stationed at and grabbed her sunglasses and her gloves before proceeding out the door into the warm night, despite the light mist that the rain had turned into, got on her motorcycle, and started off toward the quiet and peaceful town of Silent Hill.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Harry yawned a bit, fiddling with the stations of the jeep's radio system, as he drove down the deserted highway toward the relaxing resort town of Silent Hill. Only two colors painted the mountains during that hour of twilight: green and blue. The trees- spruce, pine, and fir- looked as though they were fashioned from the same glowing shades as dark emerald and jade gemstones. Cool, blue shadows lie along the roadside and within the depths of the trees, growing larger and deeper and darker by the minute. Harry Mason turned his Jeep Wrangler off the three-lane state road, onto a county maintained, two-lane that twisted and climbed through the pass to Silent Hill. The road was undisturbed by any other passers as he sped along the highway. On his left, where oncoming traffic would take their route, was the wall of a cliff. To his right, he had to stay mindful of the guard rail that would keep drivers from tumbling into the roads below. Glancing over to the seat beside him, Cheryl slept peacefully, holding onto the sketchpad that she favored so. A small smile crept across his lips as he returned his eyes to the road. It was quite late, and he'd be extremely glad once they arrived in the resort area of town and at the hotel that they'd made reservations at. 

Silent Hill… The name of the town rolled through his mind over and over, almost as though plaguing him. It had been years since he'd last been to that place. Years. His eyes went to Cheryl again before setting on the road. She'd picked out the vacation spot this summer, and he'd thought it was odd how she'd insisted on going to Silent Hill, of all places. Of course, it was a nice enough town; a community divided into three districts on a lake with its own carnival… a resort town that some liked well… but it wasn't well know. And he thought it was odd that a seven year old would ask to go there by name. He wasn't quite sure where she'd heard of the town from, but wherever it was, she'd insisted that their vacation be spent there this summer. He glanced toward the sketch book that she held in her small arms. It read, "Coogwigger Diner," across the front. That was most likely a diner that they'd visit once they reached their destination, since it was located in Silent Hill. But despite that, there was no other indication on the book, or anywhere else that could have made Cheryl ask for that particular city as their vacation spot. He hadn't been there in years, but Cheryl had made her choice clear. And Harry had said alright, since he saw no harm in it. Switching off the radio, which had been rattling off AM, the only stations that seemed to be getting through around these parts, he rolled down the window and propped his elbow over the door, tapping the roof of the jeep with his fingertips. Through the passenger window, he could see that the ground grew level and trees seemed to shoot up from the ground like jets of water from a geyser, but was still adorned by that guard rail. Glancing in the rear view mirror, he took note of a single headlight coming up behind him faster than the speed limit. Pulling to the side, only a bit, he made room for the vehicle to pass, if they chose to. They did.

Glancing in their direction, he realized it was one of those motorcycle cops. A woman to be exact. He couldn't see her features clearly, since she wore the required helmet and sunglasses. He wrinkled his brow a little, thinking it was quite odd for her to wear sunglasses this late in the evening. Despite the high-beam that her motorcycle let loose, her surrounding must have seemed equally dark with those shades on. She looked over at him as she moved into the next lane and gave what appeared to be a smile. Tilting his head to one side, Harry gave her a curious look as she speed on in front of him and out of view. A flirtatious smile, perhaps? Shaking his head, he gave one of his own. That was his imagination acting up now. It was more like a smile saying, "Hey, buddy. Thanks for letting me move on. Official police business. And wash your jeep." He watched the silhouette of the motorcyclist disappear from the illumination of his headlights, and into the shadows of the mountain path and trees. Silence overtook the roads once more.

Harry picked up his speed, idly wondering just what the officer's hurry had been. He'd only been half listening to the radio when it had been on, but he hadn't heard of any accident of any sort. With a sigh, he leaned back in his seat, tugging a little at the seatbelt across his shoulder and pushed that to the back of his mind. It really wasn't that important. All he had to do was concentrate on his drive to their vacation spot. A tiny yawn, which resembled the squeaking of a mouse more than anything else, sounded in the seat next to his. Glancing over in Cheryl's direction, he smiled. The little girl smoothed back her chin-length dark hair after rubbing the sleep from her eyes. Looking toward her father, she gave a small grin.

"Are we almost there?" The excitement in her voice was evident. Harry chuckled a bit and nodded.

"Yup. Just a little while longer." The child smiled and hugged her sketchpad, looking through the glass that served to block any oncoming elements from outside of the vehicle. With a sigh, Harry shifted gears as he watched the sky in the horizon grow even darker. Slowing just a little, he came around a bend when he noticed something out of the ordinary sitting off to the side of the highway, slightly skewed against the cliffside. Wrinkling his brow, he looked out his window to get a better view. It was a motorcycle. It looked very similar to the one that the female police officer had been driving. Eyes narrowing, he noted that the headlight to the vehicle was still shining brightly against the wall that it had come up against. But… the owner was no where to be seen. Odd…

Cheryl glanced up at her father and leaned forward a little, curious as to what had caught his attention so avidly. He didn't really seem to be paying attention to much else, so she looked back toward the road along her side of the vehicle, watching the shadows grow around the surrounding trees. Leaning closer, she thought she'd seen something in the brush… a movement… A young girl stepped over the rail skirting the trees. Her dress seemed to be an eerie shade of blue against the beams of the headlights. Looking up, half-spinning toward the oncoming jeep, she threw her hands up to shield her face, as though that would stop the procession of the car. A scream tore from Cheryl's lips as she clutched her sketchbook to her chest. Harry's attention was immediately brought back to the front of the road. A look of horror passed over his features as his eyes met with those of the girl who had stumbled onto the highway. Her dark eyes were tinged with fear… the look of wild abandon of that of a stray animal… and perhaps something else. Slamming his foot onto the break petal, he yanked on the steering wheel, careening the jeep to one side, trying as best he could to avoid a collision with the girl on the road.

He could hear the startled shriek of the girl, and the horrified cry of his daughter as he tried, unsuccessfully, to regain control of the vehicle. He'd been studying the motorcycle for too long, wondering where it's operator had vanished to. He'd taken his eyes off the road for too long, resulting in this accident that could have been avoided. With a shout of his own, he spun the wheel in every direction he could, trying to recover his bearings… to make the world calm down long enough for him to actually be able to see the road, the trees, and the wall along the opposite side of the trees. He pumped the break, trying to slow the pace that the vehicle had spun out of control with… but he couldn't focus on one thing for too long before the next came into sight. With a violent jar, he felt, more that heard, the jeep slam into the rail. His vision clouded over in a white mist that rapidly consumed his senses. He felt as though he'd been taken from one world, and thrown wildly into another, where, when he awoke… _if _he awoke… he'd be tested by unseen forces.


	3. Access to Trepidation

By: Ayame

****

Silent Hill : A Novelization

~through the gate~

~Sonata

Gingerly opening her eyes, she glanced around. She felt a little dizzy… maybe a slight headache, but aside from that, she felt perfectly fine. Giving a tiny cry of relief that she was unharmed, she let her gaze fall to the driver's side of the vehicle. Her dad was still out cold. A chill seemed to fall around the area as she took in her surrounding for the first time since opening her eyes. The city streets were calm and quiet, as though it were completely deserted, and the ground took on the quality of a wintry ice rink. The faintly cracked glass of the car seemed to have bits of frost lining the edges, and a minute amount of condensation had formed, due to the breathing of herself and her father. Cheryl rubbed her forehead a little, and then her shoulder where the seatbelt had pressed an indentation of red against her skin. Pressing the release button, she moved out of the shoulder harness and sat forward a bit. The jeep gave off strange creaking noises with each movement she made, no matter how slight. Biting her lower lip, she spotted her sketchbook lying on the floor. Grabbing onto it, she looked toward her dad once more before leaning over and shaking him, trying to rouse him from his sleep.

"Papa…" she whispered. A chill crept down her spine. She felt odd being here… wherever here was. Licking her lips, she moved back to the passenger seat. What should she do? Go for help? Or wait until her father awoke? Letting her gaze go through the windshield of the jeep, she could see tiny tendrils of fog slowly drifting across the icy roads, slithering like desert serpents across smooth sand. But despite paranormal setting, she was sure she was in the town that she'd picked as their vacation spot. She wasn't sure just _how_ she knew that, but she did. The place just seemed… _familiar_ to her. It was as though… some unseen power had beckoned her to come… to go where it was safe… Cheryl wrinkled her nose. How could any place be more safe than at her father's side? She glanced over at him. But… how could he protect her if he was asleep and wouldn't wake up…?

"Daddy…" her voice was on the edge of pleading. She'd never been in an accident like this before, and it was frightening. Her thoughts traced back to the girl that they'd nearly ran over. Cheryl wondered if she was alright. Had her dad been able to avoid hitting her? Or… was she crushed beneath the jeep at this very moment? A feeling of dread crept over her. The thought made her want to spring from the vehicle and run far away, but it also made her want to stay put, lest the ghost of the girl try to grab her for revenge. She held tightly onto her sketchbook, wishing that her imagination wouldn't get the better of her. Of course people didn't come back from the dead. She knew that. And she was pretty sure the girl had made it safely away. After all, her dad had swerved quite a ways out of the way. With a sigh, she leaned back, trying to remain calm and patient as she waited for her father to wake up.

But… strangely enough, she couldn't help but think about the girl who'd stumbled out across the road. She wasn't even sure how she'd noticed the older girl in the first place. With a tiny, quivering sigh, she glanced out the window and toward the now fog infested streets. Were they streets? _Why are you so sure this is a city? _Her mind asked her. The place seemed to transform beneath the thick fog that had grown so rapidly. Could she have really been sure she was in a city in the first place? Maybe her conscience had a point there. It could have just been her imagination… The need to be in familiar territory that made her think she had seen houses and streets before the fog rolled in… Just how _was_ she so sure she was in a city…? _I don't know… _she replied silently to that little nagging voice. _I just am… _Leaning over a little, she unlocked the door and pushed it open. The air that greeted her was something of a mix between cold and hot, like it couldn't make up it's mind as to what it wanted to be. Stepping out of the wrecked jeep, Cheryl clutched her sketchbook to her and looked back in the car. _Don't worry, Daddy. I won't go too far… _she gave him the silent promise, even though she knew he could not hear it. But, as she gave it, she felt the distinct feeling of longing come over her… a feeling that told her if she left the spot in which she stood, she wouldn't be coming back…

Looking in either direction, despite how beneath the mask of the misty haze the appearance of both routes seemed identical, she felt compelled to move one way. It was as though the beckoning that had been telling her where safety was, came even more forceful now that she'd left the shelter of the jeep. Biting her lower lip, she took in a small breath, her tiny fingers moving to smooth away stray strands of her short black hair. She had to go for help. She trusted her instincts. Papa had always told her she was a bright little girl… so she should do what she thought was best… right? Walking slowly into the dense fog, she vanished from view, seeking what she felt was to be help… and seeking… something else. What was it…? What _was_ it? She couldn't explain it, but whatever it was she felt, the pull towards it was overpowering the need to find help. With a small whimper, Cheryl kept walking.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The iridescent lights danced and flashed in spasms of color beneath his eyelids. The pain was almost unbearable, making him wonder if he'd ever come out of it. It had rendered him motionless for a time before he was actually able to gain feeling in his joints. Bit-by-bit he managed to open his eyes, to reclaim his movements… to see. He thought he'd heard Cheryl's voice… calling him in a tone of anxiety… With a slight groan, he leaned forward, his arms moving to hold onto the steering wheel, or rest on the dash. His dark brown hair fell across his face a little, shadowing his eyes as he started to come to his senses. What had happened…? He couldn't quite remember. He could only hear the distant and chilled sounds of the screaming. His muscles tensed as he saw the look of utter horror pass through that small girl's eyes just moments before he pitched the car out of the way… The motorcycle on the side of the road passed over his semi-darkened vision, a vision which only saw though half-closed slits. The thoughts and memories oozed into his mind and stuck to the crevices like that thick golden liquid collected by bees that slid over every inch of a honey-comb. It had been his foolish actions led to this accident. He'd crashed. He'd lost control of his vehicle, not only endangering the life of the girl on the road and himself, but also his… His eyes flew open as the thought of his daughter came to mind, the need to know of her safety hitting him like a tidal wave would the surface of a white sandy beach. Turing toward the passenger side of the car, he met with the shock that she was no longer beside him. The door had been left ajar, and he was greeted by nothing more than an empty seat and fog. Releasing himself from the strains of the seatbelt, he half-fell, half-stumbled from the driver's seat of the broken vehicle, still dazed and fairly pained from the accident.

A chill hung in the atmosphere… but what else was to be expected with the accompaniment of snow? _Snow…? _Harry wrinkled his brow, puzzled by the appearance of an element completely out of place for the season of summer. A thick blanket of fog had draped itself over the area. It was a mist that promised nothing but a void of emptiness… Rubbing his temples, Harry shook his head lightly, willing away the pulsating headache that assuaged his judgment. Perhaps his imagination was acting up from the collision…? But he knew it couldn't have been. He held out a hand, watching the flakes fall from the sky and dissipate before touching his palm… before making contact with the asphalt road on which he stood. Stillness complimented the eerie setting with the completely utter feeling of desertion. It was the silence here, Harry thought, that was far more disquieting than the misplaced elements of fog and snow. It was just too quiet…

Through the fog, he could make out the traces and outlines of buildings and nearby homes. It seemed as though the drive that his daughter and he had been on had taken place ages ago. Licking his suddenly dry lips, he thought about where his child might have gone to. Surely she would have had more sense than to wander off in conditions like these… but… he couldn't be sure. She was a feisty child that insisted she knew better on some occasions. Turning back toward the mangled jeep, he ducked inside momentarily for any items that would have been used for an accident under normal circumstances. _Normal circumstances…? _He thought about how odd all of this was as he pushed what luggage was left in the back of the vehicle off of the back seat and yanked out the emergency provisions equipped in the jeep from beneath the vinyl seating. Flashlights, flares accompanied by matches, a flare gun, two AM/FM radios, and a canister containing liquid… it smelled of either kerosene or gasoline, but he wasn't sure which, and, much to his dismay, it had broken open in the crash, damaging the radios, and flashlights. Of course, the flare gun was missing. It seemed that the only thing he could use from this stash were the hand held flares and the matches. Pulling the pack of flares, which didn't really seem to hold too many, and matches from the case, he slipped them into the pocket of his brown leather jacket and set off into the dense haze that covered the vicinity of the area.

He moved slowly, managing to find his way onto a sidewalk. As he got closer to the buildings, recognition came to him. The area was very familiar. He recognized this part of the town of Silent Hill. But… why was everything so… _bizarre?_ It was true that he'd not been to this place in quite some time, but he knew that any place, unless it were in perhaps Alaska, or the near the poles, should not have had weather like this. Not during this season. It vaguely reminded him from something out of one of his books… Something supernatural. His gazed drifted down the stretch of streets, from one shrouded building to the next, wondering just what had happened to this city to make it change the way it had. A thought crossed his mind. Was this… the reason that motorcycle cop had been in such a hurry to get here? Of course, he wasn't sure if this was indeed where she was going… but it made some strange sense in a way. Shaking his head, he pushed those thoughts to the back of his mind. That was the least of his concerns right now. Right now, he had to find his little girl before she got herself hurt. 

As he moved down the sidewalk, his footsteps were the only thing that accompanied him… or were they? He stopped short at the soft skittering sounds of another pair of footsteps echoing through the streets. His heart skipped a beat. _Cheryl! _Taking in a breath, he moved more quickly down the street and around a corner, following the sounds as they grew louder with his progression. Slowing to a halt, he squinted, trying to see beyond the dense blanket of white. In the distance, he could make out a tiny silhouette. _Is that Cheryl…? _The fog, almost seeking to answer his thought out question, seemed to shift, almost lightening up to show him who he wanted to see. She stood across the street, just in front of a row of houses, moving in one direction. She held her sketch book close as she took one step after another. Her dark hair fell in front of her face, blocking any view of it. She drifted in an almost dreamlike quality… appearing as if time and space around her had slowed. 

"Cheryl!" Harry called out to her and took a step forward, the need to break this wicked trance danced through him. He cleared his throat a little as he moved toward her, but she did not respond. She didn't jump at the sound of his booming voice soaring across the nearly soundless city streets… she didn't look in his direction… she didn't make a single sound. Instead, she sauntered forward. She hopped off of the curb, letting her footsteps carry her further into the cover of the fog. Harry was momentarily stunned as he watched her disappear. Why… was she running away from him?

"Hey, wait! Stop, Cheryl! Where are you going?" the words left his mouth with the concern and alarm, but also the slight anger of a father wanting his child to obey him. He darted after her, plunging into the dense clouds of fog, only thinking about where she could be going. Why did she ignore him like this? He picked up his speed, but for some odd reason, that dreamlike state of time and space seemed to be working with the escape of his little girl. _The escape? Why would I think of it that way? _It was as though the shifting, maneuvering fog had wrapped itself around him, slowing his movements no matter how hard he tried to reach her. He felt the air around him grow thicker, threatening to turn into something much more solid than just fog should he continue his ascent… to block him off from chasing the child in more ways than one. With a growl, he shook his head at the thought. But it was the only thing that seemed to make _some_ sort of sense in this senseless world he'd tumbled into. Why else would he have not been able to catch up to his little daughter? He slowed to a stop after a moment. He'd lost sight of her. Taking in a breath, he wiped the sweat from his brow. He felt winded, and it was definitely due to more than just his run to catch up with her. 

Wrinkling his brow, he glanced to his left, thinking that he'd perhaps caught a glimpse of her moving through the fog once again. And perhaps the trickling sound of faint laughter…? What was going on here? His mind raced as he picked up his pace again, in the direction he'd seen and heard her retreat to. He had no idea what street he'd just come off of, but he knew that he'd crossed into an alley. Fences and what appeared to be portable garages lined the small passageway, convoyed by old crates and boxes. He could hear the slight scuffling of footsteps ahead of him, somewhere in the distance, submerged in the fog. Dashing forward, the rest of his surroundings melting into tints of rusted red, puce green, and stale grey, he heard the clanging of metal ahead of him. It sounded like the cringing hinges of a gate to an old fence. In front of him was a brick wall that was only as high as his shoulders and to his left, was that chain-link fence that he'd heard only moments ago. An old rusted sign hanging from the links read "Beware of Dog" in dark, unpromising lettering. Harry paused for a moment, his eyes narrowing at the sign, as though waiting for it to come to life. That was all, though. He heard no sounds. No signs of a dog actually being beyond this fence. No more scurrying footsteps from his escaping daughter. Nothing. A thin chill crept down his spine. He'd used that word again. _Escape._

Taking in a breath, he pushed open the fence and stepped through the gate, only to be met with a sight that made his blood run cold and bile rise in his throat. Jumping to the side a little, he took in the very first thing his senses let him. A body… no carcass was more like it. One of a mutilated animal. Most likely the dog that the sign had told watchers to be aware of. The mangled flesh of the animal hung around it's lifeless body in chunks of bone and entrails. Blood had been splattered everywhere; against the fence that he'd just stepped through, the dog house against the wall, the hard pavement on which the corpse was situated… The discoloration around the middle, where the wounds… if that could be what they were called… seemed to speak of a horror beyond the imagination of any mortal mind. Whomever… or whatever had done this certainly didn't have to beware of anything, much less a dog. The lifeless stench of rotting flesh hung in the air, sending goose bumps along Harry's skin. His eyes darted around wildly. What if whatever had done this was still nearby…? A crease came to his brow. Why would Cheryl venture into a place like this? How could she have stumbled across this gruesome mutilation without making a single peep? His eyes tailed along the wall opposite where he was standing… that cracked brick wall that seemed to be the same rusted color as the dried blood of the creature at his feet. Along the wall, there was another entrance, leading to another, smaller and much more narrow alley way than the one he'd just been through.

Clenching his teeth, half holding his breath, he stepped past the carcass and moved toward the opening in the wall. Had his little girl gone through here…? The thought cut through his mind with a considerable force of resistance. _His_ little girl? Hah! His little girl wouldn't have come through here at all. His little girl would have run into his arms the moment he'd called out her name. His little girl would have cried at the joy of seeing him alright. His little girl would have screamed in terrified horror had she seen that dog. His little girl… his little girl. But as the thoughts raced through his mind… as he made his way down that creepy alley with nothing but brick lining the walls… as he moved down some steps, and up some steps… as he listened wearily to the dank dripping of leaking pipes… as he clenched his teeth, trying to ignore the stale scent of rust and decay… as he took each step, he had the foreboding sense of dread that _that_ had been his little girl. _His little girl, _who seemed to be leading him on this chase… this test that would be concluded beyond this gate that he'd come to stop in front of. Trepidation curled at the base of his stomach as he stepped through the gate.

The fog that he'd been traveling through gave way immediately, dissipating into nothing more than darkness. If it had been light out… if he'd been out cold in the wreck for so long that daylight had had a chance to come through… well, that was no longer the case. He seemed to have stepped into a world where light was unheard of. Wincing a bit, the shrill sound of sirens pierced his skull. It wasn't the sound that a police car or an ambulance would make, though. It was far different. It sounded rapidly, with a menacing, threatening tone, as though telling him if he continued, it would be to his ruin. He could still hear the water dripping from broken drain pipes and such. His senses were still filled with that unwelcome odor of decomposition. Swallowing, Harry quickly remembered the flares he'd recovered from the jeep and pulled one from his pocket, moving slowly to ignite it. The area seemed to come to life with the light cast upon it. The alley way continued… but Harry was quite reluctant to. _How did it turn dark so quickly…? _

Biting his lower lip, he ascended along the path given by the rust colored brick walls. He was careful to stay in the center of the alley, as though afraid that touching anything would lead to his demise. The sound of those sirens still resonated somewhere within his mind, but they'd lessened considerably. Clenching his teeth together, his eyes narrowed as he studied the unnatural pathway. There was absolutely no way that Cheryl had gone through here. No way at all… but he found himself pressing on. _For what? _he wondered. _A morbid curiosity?_ His thoughts were abruptly interrupted by the wail of shrieking metal. Jumping a little, he held up the flare, his eyes drifting toward the source of the sound. A wheelchair lie in a toppled heap, as if it had been thrown aside, against a small cove made by the walls of brick. One of the wheels turned lightly, giving the impression that it had recently been thrown into that position. Grinding his teeth, Harry turned down the next pathway. He didn't have to go too much further before he came to yet another corner, this one containing a gurney from a hospital. Harry froze a little. There was a form beneath the white sheets, which were splattered with the harsh color of blood. It dripped from beneath that bed, creating a pool on the ground. _What the… _Harry's thoughts came with a whirlpool of shades. Hospital items. A wheelchair… and a bed containing a body… But what were they doing here? They seemed just as out of place as that motorcyclists bike had been on that lonely highway, if not more so. A tingling sense of loss slowly made its way down his spine. He eyed the hospital bed for a moment longer, feeling like an intruder upon a sinister set. Tightening his grip on the flare, his eyes slowly tore from the gurney and slid to his right, where the next pathway took flight. Like the rest of the place, it was hostile and foreboding. Swallowing, he started in that direction. 

The light released by the flare began to flicker, threatening to be swallowed by the pressing darkness. The brick wall on either side of him gave way to a rusted colored chain-link fence. His empty footfalls, which had been echoing along with his excursion, telling the story of his journey, now suddenly sounded muted… sounded as though he were no longer stepping along a concrete ground. Harry's dark brown eyes drifted to his feet, where he found he'd been walking through puddle after puddle of crimson blood. His pace slowed, faltered, a bit. The sloshing sound came to his ears with the unpleasant feeling of nausea. The metallic smell filled his senses as the path created by the fences gave way to a small opening. The scarlet liquid plagued the ground almost as though it had been the result of a rainstorm. Chunks of what appeared to be flesh lie sporadically in the liquid puddles. His thoughts went to the dog he'd encountered earlier. Was this the rest of it? His question was answered as his eyes went to the surrounding fence. His breath caught in his throat as he nearly lost hold of the flare he'd had in his grasp. _What is going on here…?_

Tied to the fences was a body. Ravaged and skinless, it hung against the links by its arms. It was the head and torso in the mocking position of a crucifixion. The flesh that was on the ground was most likely the rest of it. The entrails and innards hung from the ripped and torn tissue around the waist line. Blood oozed from every pore of what was left of the unfortunate soul that had received this treatment. Harry brought a hand up to his mouth and nose. The stench aggravated the senses and he was beginning to feel light headed. He was at a dead end and Cheryl wasn't here. He knew she wouldn't be as soon as he'd stepped beyond that gate that held the sign telling him to be weary of the dog. Coughing a little, he took a step back only to have his calf meet with the splitting pain of something cutting into the tissue. With a startled shriek, he half-jumped, half spun out of the way. He hadn't noticed the sounds before, but now, they seemed to be louder than an ocean wave crashing against cliffside rocks. Footsteps and crying howls of children… three bleeding children, deprived of clothing and skin, just like the torso hanging from the fence. They held in their tiny hands what appeared to be knifes. They approached with deadly intent, one of the knives already stained with a bit of his blood. The veins and muscles pulsed all over them, still functioning without the tissue around it to keep it from sliding apart and melting to the ground. Harry backed up, away from their swinging blades as they began to corner him. Then he ran.

Springing through them, he darted back the way he'd come. Back through the darkness to whatever fog might have been left beyond the gate he'd stepped through. They were children, yes… if that was what one would call them… but they also were the demon spawn, possessing the speed to keep right on his heels as he ran. He ignored the hospital bed and the wheelchair as he passed them. His world spun out of control as he collided with a brick wall now and again. An eternity stretched on, with the wailing of the children following him before he finally reached the gate to retreat to safety… It was barricaded. That brick wall continued on behind it, blocking his escape any father. Grasping the fence, he yanked on it, as though willing it to open. He'd come through this fence, and he planned on leaving the same way. But Fate told him otherwise. A startled scream ripped from his lips as he felt the slicing of blades rip through his thighs and calves. With a growl, he kicked behind him at the animated pulsing mounds of fleshy monsters formed in the shape of small children and started to climb. He lost hold of the flare and it sank into the darkness below, hitting the ground with a hollow thud. His head pounded as the air around his hands grew thick, as though trying to stop him from leaving, and he started to loose his grip on the fence, as well as reality… But was _this_ reality? It couldn't be… Within an instant, he felt himself falling. He was headed back into the grueling grip of the monstrosities below, wielding the weapons that would cause his demise. He should have listened to those sirens… Pain consumed his senses and thoughts, but whether it was from hitting the ground or from razor sharp knives, he wasn't sure. He couldn't concentrate any more. He could barely hear the disturbing, yet joyful cries of the children who would soon get what they wanted.

This place was not the same world he'd entered from the car crash. If he'd been unnerved in the world of fog… that world where the elements seemed to clash with what common sense told… then here, he was downright terrified. This world was almost what he would deem to be the embodiment of Hell in itself. It wasn't the fire and brimstone that he sometimes came across in his readings and research for the some of the books he'd written. It wasn't the darkness that consumed the senses, swallowing them greedily, and thirsted for more. It wasn't the stench of decay and the hollow sound of dripping water and menacing childish laughter. It wasn't the sight of the mangled body and the chunks of fleshy tissue lying in the small lagoons of ruby blood. It wasn't the idea of three tiny children, as ravaged and skinless as that body chained to the fence had been, chasing after him with deadly intent spelled out with the weapons they carried. It was the idea that he'd entered this god-forsaken territory that could have only been envisioned in a nightmare, and the idea that he'd come here in search for his daughter. A daughter that wasn't here… a daughter that, at the moment, didn't really seem to be his daughter… a daughter that he thought about even as his life was snuffed from the confines of existence. With a tormented scream, as an infinite number thoughts and feelings knotted the precincts his mind, Harry took in a breath, which was to be his last, and whispered her name. _Cheryl…_


	4. Veneer Indefinite

By: Ayame

****

Silent Hill : A Novelization

~into the unknown~

~Intermezzo

With a start, she looked up. Her soft blue gaze shifted about the area, with an almost confused quality, almost as if she didn't remember where she was. A soft moan passed her lips and she brought her palm to her forehead. She needed some rest, that was for sure. The last shift she'd worked was an all night stake-out, and almost immediately after they'd caught the criminals they were after, she'd been called to work at the sub-station just outside of Brahms. And now this -- this strange communication loss from Silent Hill. Scratching her chin a bit, she thought about how she probably should have taken that cup of coffee the detective had offered her. Sighing, she looked down at the oak colored table and to the radio she'd been working on. 

As she stared at the object made of chips and wires, her thoughts slowly went back to how she'd gotten here in the first place. The memory wasn't too clear in her mind. It was somewhat clouded over by a haze of white… She'd been led on a chase. The jeep she'd passed on her way to Silent Hill hadn't been too much of an attention getter. They were out pretty late, but she had more important things to do than wonder what they were up to. Besides, she didn't have a reason to even _try _ and pull the driver over. And it wasn't too peculiar that it had been the only vehicle on that lonely county maintained two-lane highway. From what she'd heard, the roads to Silent Hill weren't traveled too often until tourist season, which was coming up very soon. She'd moved passed him at her accelerated speed when she'd noticed some strange activity in the brush to her right. Then there was a gunshot. Not a loud one. It had been muted by a silencer, and it had been accompanied by the slight spark of the bullet leaving the barrel. The slug flew just inches in front of her nose and pummeled into the wall to her left. She wasn't exactly sure just how she'd seen or even heard that coming, seeing as how most other sounds were drummed out by the humming engine of her bike, and then she had those sunglasses on. That had definitely been a silly idea; wearing sunglasses at night, but she supposed she was trying to be the cool cop. She's nearly leapt off of her bike after the incident and rolled across the highway into the trees. Throwing off her helmet, she pulled her automatic and advanced with precaution, not to mention she'd removed her shades. 

There had been no sounds for quite a while after that. No rustling of bushes from an escaping convict… no harsh breathing, or even quiet breathing for that matter… Not even the sound of that jeep she'd passed minutes ago coming around the bend. Nothing. Wrinkling her brow, Cybil had moved further into the cover of the trees. That was when she'd been ambushed. She'd been quick enough to spin around at the erupting sound of screeching tires and the startled screams of people on the byway behind her. The howl of the guard rail lining the trees within which she stood gave out a deafening toll as something crashed into it, causing bits of metal and splinters of tree branches to fly in her direction. She dove out of the way, only to be met by something… Cybil shook her head as the memories came back. _Something_ was a ridiculous assumption. It was someone that she'd met with. Someone who took the initiative to knock her out. Perhaps it had been the someone who'd shot at her, but either way, they made her fall into unconsciousness, only to have her awake on the city streets. 

Cybil brought her thoughts out of the puzzling past and to her task at hand… but she was still a little confused as to why whomever had attacked her hadn't finished her off. With a shrug started to fiddle with the wires of her radio once again. Perhaps she hadn't really been their target. She fingers stilled over the wiring as a crease formed across her brow. She thought again about the accident that had taken place before she lost consciousness. After she'd awoken, she had tried, unsuccessfully to find the location of where she'd come off the highway from her bike. But she wasn't exactly familiar with the streets of Silent Hill, and to top it all off, when she'd come to, a thick layer of fog had settled over the area. The element had made it difficult to see more than a three foot radius around her. Ultimately, it was chilling. Not just the cool air that accompanied the haze, but just the idea that it was there, drifting through the city streets, during a season that it should not have been there. And along with the wintry feeling of fog, there was a disturbing silence. That was when she'd decided it was time to try and contact those whom her boss had said were on their way to help with her investigation. That was also when she discovered that the radio she carried with her, which the culprit who had knocked her out took the liberty of leaving on her, along with her firearms, was not in working order. 

Letting her thoughts come back to the present, Cybil leaned back a little against the cushioned booth seat, a bit on edge, and gave a small yawn and a sigh as she stared at the contraption she'd dismantled on the table. Her azure eyes drifted along the fine grains of the wooden surface before trailing around the particulars of the rest of the room. The Coogwigger Diner. She'd virtually found this place by accident, but at least, in finding it, she knew where she was. Old Silent Hill. The residential area where most of the citizens lived. All she needed to do was get to the resort district to reach the police department. She could go straight down Bloch for that. Pursing her lips, she thought momentarily about the case she was investigating. It had been pretty bad when it had first begun… but now… it had escalated seriously during a span of seven years and the perpetrators had yet to be caught. 

Her gaze shifted from the inside of the diner to the fog infested streets outside. A chill crept up her spine for a moment. Being in this place reminded her of that book she'd read once by Dean Koontz. What was it called…? _Phantoms. _ The title of the novel popped into her mind rather quickly. Boy, that was one thing she really didn't care to think of at the moment. The whole deserted town-lack of communication-being in a room with big windows-being a cop-thing just did not bode well when thinking about that book. Not to mention that the names of the streets around Silent Hill had been named after authors and such. That was definitely one of the things she thought was quite interesting about this town. Pushing those thoughts from her mind, she glanced back toward the radio and began to assemble it once again, hoping that she'd fixed whatever the problem was. She hadn't. Pressing her lips together, she stood, stretched, and rubbed the palms of her hands over her black uniform pants. Moving over to the counter of the diner, she took a seat on one of the worn chairs and looked toward the booth near the entrance. 

The man she'd found was still unconscious. He'd been out for quite some time, now, and Cybil began to wonder if he'd ever come out of it. She'd found him lying half in the street, half on the sidewalk close to Matheson Street near Queen Burger. He had been the only form of life that she'd come across after she'd woken up. She'd had one heck of a time trying to get him into the diner, seeing as how he wasn't light. His dark blue jeans were a bit dirty, as thought he'd fallen a couple of times and soiled them, and his brown leather coat had been halfway zipped up concealing a black tee-shirt with a V-collar. A couple of flares fell out of one of the pockets along with some matches, and she'd made sure to haul those into the diner along with the man. She'd checked his vitals before hand, making sure that he wasn't dying or having some sort of medial emergency. After getting him settled, she'd gotten to work on her radio while she'd waited for him to wake up. Now, nearly an hour later, with him giving no apparent signs of waking, her radio not working, and the fog outside incredibly dense, she figured that the Brahms Police Department had most likely found her bike by now, and was conducting a search for her… but she found it odd that they wouldn't be able to track her in conditions such as these. Quite some time, after all, had gone by and there weren't many places for a police officer to get lost in a town as seemingly deserted as this one. Taking in a breath, her anxiousness rising from having to wait, rather than move, she looked again toward the man she'd found, wishing he'd wake up so she could be on her way. Her gaze fell to the clouded streets beyond the windows of the diner. She'd felt earlier that something was going to happen this night. She was right. Something here in this town was quite unnatural, and she was sure she'd find out what it was soon. Very soon.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

He could barely feel the ground beneath his back and head. It all seemed so distant to him. Tremors of light and sound invaded the crevices of his mind like the flickering of a serpents' tongue. He could still see the flashing of the wicked blades as they sliced through the air and toward him. He could still hear the shuffling of footsteps… though… they seemed to be retreating, rather than coming at him. His head ached, but then again, it had been aching since he awoke from the car crash. A crease came to his brow as he remembered the pain he felt accompanied by the demonic childish laughter. With a start, he sat upright, as though violently shoved back into the reality of the situation… the reality…

He scooted back a little, trying to make sense of his surroundings. A bright light had filled the area, chasing out the impending darkness that had wrapped itself around his senses, promising only demise. He took a moment to adjust to where he was… the brick walls… the blood infested concrete on which he sat… the Hellish spawn disguised as children… only to discover that none of that was what he saw when his eyes completed their adjustments. He was sitting in a booth near the door of a diner. A diner that was unmistakably familiar to him. Licking his dry lips, his mind raced to find answers, but his hurried thoughts were interrupted by the sound of approaching footsteps. Looking up, slightly startled from anticipation, he took note of a young woman making her way toward him from one area of the diner. She stopped and studied him for a moment, crossing her arms beneath her chest and gave a light smile. Harry wrinkled his brow.

She was wearing a police uniform… was she the one that he'd passed on his way to Silent Hill on that deserted highway? He couldn't tell. It had been too dark before, and the woman who'd passed him had been wearing a helmet and those sunglasses. He watched her for a moment. Her uniform consisted of a sky blue, short-sleeved blouse that buttoned up the front with the Brahms Police Department logo patched onto the left sleeve. The gold badge hooked onto the breast pocket seemed to give off a unreal glow compared to the rest of the lighting within the diner. At her hip attached to the gun belt, was her pistol, though he couldn't tell what kind it was, holster, handcuffs inside of their case, a cartridge case, and an empty radio case. She had short, light blonde hair, cut in a boyish-fashion, that fell neatly around her distinguished features. Relieved that it was only a woman in the diner with him, rather than one of those monstrosities he'd encountered… moments?… hours?… days?… weeks?… earlier, he gave a small sigh and ran a hand through his dark hair.

The police officer waited only a few moments longer before speaking. "You're awake. That's good. How do you feel?" Her voice touched concern. She moved from where she was standing to the bar of the diner and took a seat on one of the old, worn stools. She folded her gloved hands neatly in her lap as she crossed her legs, taking on a professional and calm manner. Harry rubbed his forehead as he shifted his position on the booth so that his feet rested on the sturdy, wooden floor, rather than the cushioned seat. _How did he feel?_ Great question… He closed his eyes for a moment, his thoughts tracing back to that dirty, dank alleyway… to that corpse hanging from the fence… to those skinless, bleeding children who had attacked him with those fire-biting blades. Had she saved him from those kids? He wondered momentarily. She seemed too calm and composed for that. Maybe she was trying to keep from startling him even more…? 

No. He didn't think that was the case. Shaking his head, he unzipped his jacket. He took a moment to note that neither his jeans nor his shirt or jacket were not ripped or torn in any sort of fashion. Those knives had struck him. He was sure of it. In the legs at first, but after he'd fallen from the fence, they'd stuck higher, hitting with more damage and accuracy than he would have liked or even wished to remember. But now…? He was unmarked. His clothing was in one piece. There was no blood on him. Not even the bit that had soaked into his shoes from walking into the drenched region that housed the crucified corpse… His head began to ache. How did he feel? He couldn't very well say he felt like he'd been through Hell and met with demonic children wielding butchers knives, now could he? How did he feel? Like he'd been run over by a truck, he supposed was the best way to describe it. He hadn't realized he'd said the last part aloud until the officer gave a questioning, "Hmm?" for clarification. He looked up at her. He was glad he hadn't said the first part aloud.

"I'm okay, I guess." He sighed. He could tell by her scrutiny that she'd been watching him carefully while he had been thinking about her question. The look on her face told him that she only half believed him. After all, for such a simple question as, "How do you feel?" there shouldn't have been such a lengthy pause. But despite the pause, she nodded a little. Her eyes, a crystal hue of an azure blue, drifted to the window just behind him, out into the streets which couldn't be seen.

"Glad to hear it." She spoke briskly but almost with a touch of assurance to her voice, as though there were other things on her mind. Her gaze rolled back to him. She leaned forward a bit in her seat. "Are you from around here? Why don't you tell me what happened?" Harry sat up a little straighter by the tone in her voice. It sounded almost as if on the edge of interrogating a suspect in a crime; holding conviction, but touching on a slight suspicion. The man held up a hand.

"Wait a minute. I'm on vacation. I just got here. I'm just a tourist… I… I don't know what happened here." his voice trailed off as he rubbed his hands over his eyes and his face, taking in a breath, and thinking about the last few hours. "But I'd like to find out myself." Looking up, Harry watched her scrutiny of him. He supposed that he would be suspicious of someone as well if they were the only person that he'd seen in a place that had apparently been abandoned. Along with that, he was sure that it was her nature as a cop to start asking questions when thrust into an odd scene. He only hoped his answers hadn't come out in such a rush that it made him sound more suspicious. He'd not want to even have to broach the subject of what he went through before he woke up. 

Before he woke up… his thoughts instantly went to his daughter, who had gone missing. Or, perhaps the proper phrase would have been, 'who had gone willingly, leading him on a chase.' Looking up at the officer, a line of worry etched lightly against his brow, he decides to ask, even though he figured what her answer might have been. "Have you seen a little girl? Short, black hair; just turned seven last month." He paused for a moment before giving her other details of what Cheryl looked like. "My daughter." The blonde woman's blue eyes drifted past him, as they had several times, out toward the streets which could not be seen for a moment, before resting on him. Her expression remained somber as she spoke.

"Sorry. I haven't seen her." She leaned forward in her seat for a moment, that almost skeptical gaze returning to her eyes for a moment before vanishing again. With a small sigh, she spoke again. "The only person I've seen in this town is you." A slender brow rose slightly as her gaze went out to the fog infested streets once again, that aura of unease and apprehension crossing the atmosphere once again. Harry spoke again, if not to just fill the silence, asking for the whereabouts of the townsfolk here. He'd been to Silent Hill before, yes. And it was true that it had been some time since he'd been here, but there was no possible explanation for something like this. Not this complete abandonment. The police officer let her eyes slide toward him again before answering.

"I'd tell you, believe me. I would if I knew… but all I know is that something… bizarre is going on around here." _Bizarre_…? That was the least descriptive word she could have come up with to describe the setting in this town. She knew it just as well as he did. But, there really was no other means of describing such events. She studied the young man sitting on the bench for a moment longer, wondering just why he _had_ been the only person she'd stumbled across in this forsaken city. This conversation, she was sure, was coming to a close, and then she could call for backup. He sat there, after a moment of silence, perhaps pondering the exact same thing that she had been before she'd realized that she hadn't asked him for a name. He came to attention at her question.

"My name is Harry. Harry Mason." He said quietly, almost timidly, as though he had other things on his mind and wasn't quite focusing, or perhaps he didn't want a big reaction to his spoken name. Tilting her head to one side, the officer nodded. She recognized his name alright. A writer, she was sure. She's seen some of his work, stuff to do with mythos, religion, and sometimes ancient mysteries. Some were horrors, while others went along the lines of mysteries. She'd seen his work, but hadn't really been a heavy reader of it. He wasn't well known, but he did a decent job. But, rather than acknowledging her familiarity of his novels, she instead returned the introductions. This was, after all, neither the time, nor the place, for chit-chat and appraisals. 

"Cybil Bennett. I'm an officer from Brahams, the next town over." She paused for a moment, as he nodded, his eyes landing on the patched logo on the sleeve of her uniform blouse, as well as her ID pinned to the breast pocket. Those, in themselves, should have been give-always as to where she was from, so speaking the worlds was most likely unnecessary. "The phones are dead. I've checked the ones in here, since this seems to be the only place that's accessible. And my radio is busted." She waved a hand toward the metal contraption on the table. She'd assembled it some time ago, but it was still in unworkable order. Sliding to her feet, she stood on the balls of her feet, in a stretching manner before moving toward the table to take a look at the radio. After a moment, she set it back down and looked to Harry. "I'm going to go call for backup. I've got another radio on my bike, which is up by the highway."

With a curt nod, the dark haired man rose from his seat and looked toward the front door of the diner. It was the first time he'd actually been on his feet since… He shook his head, not wishing to even think about that so-called dream he'd experienced. Taking little time to test his footing, he started toward the door, only to be stopped by the firm voice of he blonde officer.

"Hold it! Where are you going?" The inquisitiveness held an edge to it, almost a daring challenge. Harry turned around. She had her hands on her hips, an eyebrow arched, watching him as though he were possibly on the brink of insanity. For a moment, he wondered if he was, but shot back at her.

"My daughter. I have to find her." The officer shook her head.

"No way! It's dangerous out there. I can't let you do that. Wait here, and I'll get reinforcements." She spoke with the tone of someone who was used to giving orders. Perhaps a result of being a police officer.

"If it's dangerous out there, then that's all the more reason for me to find her now. I'm not going to abandon her. Cheryl's my little girl." He watched her, his resolve made up. He didn't know this woman, and granted, he was sure that he owed her a thanks of some kind, whether it be from being rescued from demonic children that she may or may not have neglected to mention, or if he had rescued him from the wreckage of his jeep, and given him mercy to his nightmare. But despite that, he wasn't going to stop his pursuit to find his daughter, who had ran from him. Even though she had ran… there was no way he was going to let her stay out there… in these conditions. His eyes went toward the streets. With a small sigh, the young woman standing only a few feet away from him spoke again, seeming to know he wouldn't change his mind.

"Do you have a gun?" Her words were edgy, but with a tinge of worry. She wasn't happy about letting him go, but she knew she wouldn't be able to make him stay here in the diner if he chose not to. Harry looked at her.

"Um… no." came the reply. With a light shake of her head, she wondered for a moment why she'd even asked that question. She supposed it was a normal enough thing to ask… but of a writer? She was sure he'd not need a gun for any reason. Moving towards him, she stopped, pulling her weapon from her belt before checking the magazine and clip to take note of the bullets therein. With a nod, she held it out to him.

"Here. Take this. And pray you don't have to use it." The tone she'd used when she said the work 'pray' was chilling, almost as though she were foreshadowing. But what it might have been, he couldn't place. She continued speaking, giving him tips and pointers on how to use the weapon, and how to load it. A nervous chill came over him for a moment, wondering what in this abandoned city he'd possibly need a gun to defend himself from. He listened intently and watched as she'd handled the weapon with ease and precision. After another few moments, she handed it over before giving the final touches on her lecture. "Now, before you go and pull the trigger, know who your shooting. And don't go shooting me by mistake." She arched her eyebrows at this last comment before looking toward the doorway and into the thick fog that lie beyond.

"But what about you?" The question rolled off of Harry's tongue before he could think. She gave him a curious look, and he answered with a shrug as he examined the weapon. "You're unarmed now." He stated bluntly. With a tight smile, she reached down, causing Harry's eyes to follow. He hadn't noticed it before, but there was another pack attached to the ankle of her right boot. Sliding her fingers out of it, she produces yet a second pistol, displaying it before placing it in the now empty space on her gun belt at her waist. 

"I came prepared." She said simply, leaving no more room for his questions. She was, after all, a police officer, and probably had experience at things like these. He had absolutely no experience with weapons, and would hope that he wouldn't have to use it, just as she's said. "I suggest you stay near by. Don't go too far, and I'll be back with help as soon as I can." Her words brought him from his pondering only long enough for him to watch as she disappeared through the café doorway, leaving silence in her wake. 

Checking out the weapon once more, he took care to make sure the safety was on before tucking the weapon along the waist of his jeans, securing it there. Turning around one last time, he let his eyes scan the diner, wondering if there was anything he might be able to take with him, should he have need for it. Moving closer to the bar, he spotted a knife, which he thought about taking, but then decided against it. He had, after all, firearms at his use. He figured he probably wouldn't really need it. Looking further down the bar, he also spotted a map. Finding that that would be useful, he picked that up, tucking it away inside his jacket. There were other various items he found, some of which being a pen, and a small kit containing a few first aid items, half of which were missing. The kit, being small enough to fit in his pockets, as well as missing some items, only proved that it would most likely end up useless once he had a need for it. With a shake of his head, he turned his thoughts to his daughter and headed for the diner door.

The silence of the eatery was disturbed the sharp, crackling hum of static sounding in the air. Stopping, nearing jumping from the unexpected noise, Harry turned toward the end of the dinner, where Cybil had handled that radio of hers before leaving it. She'd said it was broken… but there it sat, a high-pitched static ringing from it's speakers. A frown marring his brow, he moved in that direction, wondering just what was going on the radio. Was this what she had meant when she said it was inoperable? Nearing the table he reached down to pick it up, looking over the piece as he began to step backwards.

Almost immediately after the step was taken, Harry's vision and hearing seemed to crackle and shatter. Stumbling backward, almost falling, he caught himself against the tall seats aligning the bar. Loosing his grip on the radio, it clattered to the floor, still buzzing and droning, as he looked up. He could still see shards of glass floating through the air, as though suspended in slow motion as his vision registered on a gruesome, if not unrealistic, sight. If floated before him, leathery wings outstretched on either side and flapping to keep momentum. Sinewy claws tucked out from beneath it's body, as though getting ready for an attack. A long beak topped by two beady black orbs open with a shriek, showing off gnarled and rotting teeth. It bled from pustules and wrinkles covering it's body. And the smell… Nearly gagging, Harry began to back away from the creature as it advanced in time to his retreating steps. Then it darted for him. With a shout Harry hit the ground, but not in time to avoid feeling it's claws dig into his jacket. Flailing as he hit the ground, he turned over, his brown eyes darting from the creature to something for him to use as a defensive weapon. He didn't have much time to think on this note since the creature was already diving at him a second time. Rolling out of the way and onto his feet, he came up quickly, half using the bar to pull himself up. That was when he'd spotted that knife he'd thought he'd had no use for. Feeling the rush of air behind him, as well as hearing the flapping of those leathery wings, he snatched up the blade and swung as he spun around.

Giving out a piercing shriek, Harry found that he'd hit the thing dead on across it's middle. It used it's wings to move back a few paces before diving again, giving an angry cry as it did so. Trying to dodge, Harry lost hold of the knife, hitting the ground hard, taking a couple of stools with him. The creature had missed him with it's attack, but he'd still suffered from some sort of injuries. With a cough, he heard a clatter as he struck the floor. Letting his eyes move in that direction, he was the gun that Cybil had given him. It had obviously slipped from it's secured place when his feel. Moving with a speed he didn't know he possessed, he dove for the weapon just as the skinless flying beast attacked him again. Sliding around as his fingers gripped the gun, he took aim, spotting his target, and fired several rounds, not even sure if it had even come close to hitting. Almost instantly after the shots were fired, the thing went down with a sharp cry and stayed down. Harry sat against a wall for several moments, breathing heavily, sweat doting his brow as he stared at the monstrosity. It was like those little kids he'd seen when he'd been trying to follow and find Cheryl. Except this thing was more primitive. A type of bird… or even a prehistoric creature, like a pterodactyl? With a shudder, he wondered if Cybil had been close enough to hear the shots and would come running back. 

Slowing getting to his feet, he kept his eyes on the dead animal, before he froze in horror and watched it's body steam and then dissipate into an oozing liquid and then nothing at all. Gagging a bit, he looked across the room to where it had first entered, a chill coming in to snuff out the heat brought on by not only the fear, but the rush of adrenalin. Moving, somewhat gingerly across the room, he picked up the radio, which had now gone back into silence. A crease formed across his brow. _Had this thing reacted to it's presence?_ he wondered momentarily before hooking it onto his pants. Turning toward the doorway, he realized that he still had the gun gripped tightly in his hands. Swallowing, he moved to retrieve the knife that had helped him out just moments ago, wiping it clean of the vile blood with a napkin that had fallen on the floor. Putting the blade away, he kept hold of the gun. He stood in the now empty dinner for a few minutes, trying to get bearings that he was sure wouldn't come back. Trying to process what was going on. After a minute more, he shook his head. Standing there would get him nowhere. It was obvious that Cybil hadn't heard the shots. Either that, or she'd been attacked by a similar creature. Steeling himself against what was to come, he made the decision to move on. Cybil could have needed his help, and his daughter definitely needed him. Moving toward the door of the Coogwigger Diner, he gripped the handle and pushed it open, stepping out into a world unknown.


End file.
